lHljMWIIftffir - **91 . :. -v- -; - II*r-7 r^^*w,:.*lWK
?l)c Cani&cn Journal.
VOLUME 11. CAMDEX, SOUTH-CAEOLINA, JULY 2,185o! NUMBER 52,
THE CAMDEN JOURNAL,
THO. J. WARREN & C. A. PRICE,
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1 " ~?K- rwaf?nnwl fn
COlirni'iniCTHiuii* uy man iiiu.il trc ?
Poetical El ep art incut.
NEVER HOLD MALICE.
BT ELIZA COOK.
Oh! never "hold malice;" it poisons our life
With the gall-drop of hate and the night-shade of
Let us scorn tvheie we must, and despise where
But let anger, like sun-light, go down with the day. j
Our spirits in clafhing may bear the hot spark,
But no smouldering flame to break out in the dark;
Tie the narrowest heart that creation can make,
Where our passions fold up like the coils of a
Oh! never 'hold malice;" it cannot be good,
For 'tis nobler to strike in the ni6h of hot blood,
Than to bitterly cherish the name of the foe?
Wait to sharpen the weapon and measure the blow.
The wild dog in hunger?the wolf in its spring?
The shark of the waters?the asp with its sting?
Are less to be feared than the vengeance of man,
Wfien it liftthin secret to wound when it can.
Oh! never "hold malice;*1 dislike if you will.
Yet remember humanity liuketh us still;
We ire alt of us human, and all of ua erring,
And mercy within us should ever be atirring.
Shall we dare to look up to the father above,
With petitions for pardon or pleading for love ?
Shall we dare, while we pant for revenge on anu
To ask from a God, yet deny to a brother?
WHY ARE THE BEAUTIFUL SO RARE?
Why are the beautiful so rare ?
4The eternal stars are ever bright;
And, save the tinge its meek lips wear,
The simple daisy always white:
But/mong the thousands that I meet,
flow scantot beauty is the share;
a?,?1 I nnniter in th?? Afreet
Why are the beautiful so rare ?
The dore has still its sleeky coat,
"Hie jay its clear cerulean eyes,
The robin crimson round its throat,
Ail.fresh, as if from Paradise;
'Mid human crowds it makes me start
To note what motley looks they wear!
My heart inqiiireth of my heart,
Why are the beautitul so rare ?
Ootrao^oo*.?The rowdies of Pittsburg,
have a refined way of showing their rowdyism.
It is by throwing oil upon all ladies they see
with silk dresses on.
The Boston Post mentions in proof of the
progress of phonography, that a lazy boy out
west spells Andrew Jackson, dcru Jaxn.
The Globe says: " We see that a "small lady's
gold watch is advertised as lost the other
evening^atthe theatre. We wonder if itdiffers
in appearance from the watches usually worn
i Oj'sli' *
A striking evidence of the terror inspired by
a public execution, may be found in the fact,
that every loafer is always anxious to see it!
At the last banging in this city, a jrorson who
was remarking thut be hud "a puss" from the
Sheriff, to see the execution, was offered $5 for
it hv a man that could not afford one-fiftli the
amount for any amusement?N? Y. Express
Irish Superstitious.?When you hear a
j>ersou speak in his sleep put his hand in a basin
-of water, and he will tell you all his secrets.
If a nail should enter your foot, prevent
it, if possible, from getting rusty, or the foot
Go to a tree lull of leaves nine mornings,
fnsteuing; and tell it a dream, and at the terminnf
flint timp there will not be a single leaf I
.on the tree?it will be quite withered and faded.
Rich Joke.?An Irishman went a fishing, and
among other things he hauled in, was a large size
turtle. To enjoy the surprise of the servant girl
he placed it in her bedroom. The next morning,
the first lhat bounded in to the breakfast room was
Biddy. with the exclamations:
M Be Jabers, I've got the devil f
M What devil, inquired the head of the house,
* Why, tne bull bed-bug, sure, that has been
ateiii* the children for the last two months."
A human skeleton, over eight feet high, was
dug up at Jersey City last week.
3, Sclcrtcfc 3Talc.
ISADORE?A TALE OF A BROKEN
In the church-yard of * * * *, there is a
grave covered with a plain slab of white marble;
with no other inscription than " Isadore d'Ereillo,
aged nineteen." These few words speak
history to the heart; they tell of t. beautiful
flower withered, far from its accustomed soil,
in tlie spring-day of its blossom; they tell the
fate of u young and unhappy stranger, dying in
a foreign country, remote from every early association,
her last moments unsoothed by affectionate
solicitude, no tender voice, whose light
est sound breathed happy memories, no eye of
fondness on which the fainting mourner might
look for sympathy?her very ashes separated
from their native earth.
" Might I not fancy myself a hero of fiction?"
j said Col. Fitzallan, bending gracefully as he
caught the snow-white hand which had justarI
ranged his sling. "Fair lady, henceforth I
vow myself your true and loyal knight, and thus
pledge my heart's first homage!" pressing the
yielding fingers gently to his lips. Alas! thought
Isadore, a blush, sigh and smile, mingled together?lie
loves not passionately as 1 love, or
he could not trifle thus; alightcompliment was
never breathed by love. Isadore was at that
age when the deeper tenderness of woman first
deepens the gayety of childhood, like the richer
tint that dyes the rose as it expands into summer
loveliness. Adored by her father, for she
had her mother's voice and look, and came a
sweet remembrancer of ins youtn s sole, warm
dream of happiness, of that love whose joy departed
ere it knew one cloud of care, or sting
of sorrow; a word of augerseemed to Don Fernando
a sacrilege against the dead, and his
owu melancholy constancy gave a reality to
the romantic imaginings of his child. Shu now
loved Fitzallan with all the fervor of first excitement;
she had known him under circumstances
the most affecting, when the energies
aud softer feelings of woman-were alike called
orth; when the proud and fearless soldier became
dependent on her he hud protected ; laid on the
bed of sickness, far from the affectionate hands
that would have smoothed, the tender eyes that
would have wept over his pillow. Isadore be
came ms nurse, sootneu witu unremitting care
the solitude and weariuess of a sick room; and
when again able to bear the fresh air of heaven,
her arm was the support of her too interesting
With Fitzallan the day-of romance was over,
a man above thirty* cannot enter into the wild
visions of an euthusiastic girl, flattered by the
attachment which Isadora's very looks betrayed,
he trifled with her, regardless or thoughtless
of the young and innocent heart that confided
so fearlessly. Love has no power to look forward?the
delicious conciousuess of the present,
a faint but delightful shadow of the past,
form its eternity; the possibility of separation
never entered the mind of bis Spanish love, till
ritzallan s instant return to England became
necessary. They parted with all those gentle
vows which are such sweet anchors lor hope to
rest on in absence?hut, alas, such frail ones!
For a time her English lover wrote very regularly.
That philosopher knew the human heart,
who said, " 1 would separate from my mistress |
for the sake of writing to her.'' A word, a look,!
niav be forgotten. but a letter is a lastinir me
morial of affection. The correspondence soon
slacked on his part. Isudore tending the last
moments of a beloved parent, had not one
thought for self; but when that father's eyes
were closed, and her tears had fallen on the
companion of her infancy, the orphan looked
around for comfort, consolation, and felt, for
the first time, her loneliness and the sickness of
hope deferred. Fear succeeded expectation ;
fear, not for his fidelity, but his safety; was he
1 1 1 J r I i * i i*
again laiu on u oeu 01 sicKtiess, ana isuaore iar
away ? She dwelt on this idea till it became a
present reality ; suspense was agony; at length
she resolved to visit England. She sailed, and
after a quick voyage, reached the laud ; a wanderer
seeking for happiness, which, like the
shadow thrown by the lily on the water, still
eludes the grasp. It was not thus in the groves
of Arragon, she looked forward to the British
shore; it was then the promised home of a beloved
and happy bride.
ike day after her arrival ni London, sue
drove to her agent's, (for her father, during the
troubles in Spain, had secured some property in
the English funds,) hoping from hiui to gain
some intelligence of the colonel. Passing
through a very crowded street, her coach hecoining
entangled in the press, occasioned a
short stoppage. Gazing round in that mood,
when, anxious to escape the impressions within,
the eye involuntarily seeks for others without,
her attention became attracted to an elegant
equipage. Could she be mistaken? never,
ill tliiit form ? if urnu Riirplv I'itznlhm! \Yl?ll
she remembered that graceful bend, that air of
protection with which bo supported his companion.
The agitated Spaniard just caught a
glimpse of her slight and delicate ligure, of eyes
blue as a spring sky, of a cheek of sunset; and,
ere her surnrise allowed the nower of movement.
the carriage was out of sight Her entreaties
to be allowed to alight, being attributed to fear,
were answered by assurances that she was safe.
Gradually becoming more composed, she bade
the coachman inquire who lived in the house
opposite. It was the name she longed to hear
?Colonel Fitzallan. She returned home, and
with a tremulous hand traced a few lines, telling
him how she had wept his silence, and entreating
him to come and say she was still his
own Isadore. The evening passed drearily, but
he came not. Was he indispensably engaged ?
Had he not received her note < Any supposition
but intentional delay. The next morning
the same fervid anxiety oppressed her; at length
she heard the door open, and, springing to the
window, she caught the eight of a military man
? she heard his steps on the stairs?a gentleman
entered, but it was not Fitzallan! Too soon
she learned his mission; he whom she had loved,
so trusted, had wedded another?the lady
she saw the day before was his wife ; and un
witling to meet tier inmseit, lie Jiati cnargea a
friend to communicate the fatal intelligence.
Edward B gazed with enthusiastic admiration
on the beautiful creature, whose pale
lips, and scalding tears, which forced their way
through the long dark eyelashes, belied the firmness
her woman's pride taught her to assume.?
Shame, deep shame, thought he, on the cold,
the mercenary spirit which could thus turn the
warm feelings of a loud and trusting girl into
poisoned arrows, could thus embitter the first
sweet flow of affection. He took her hand in
silence?he felt that consulation in a case of
this kind was but mockery. They parted, the
one to despair over the expired embers, the other
to nurse the lirst sparkles oi'hope. The ndxt
morning, scarcely aware what he was doing, or
of the motive which uctuated him, (for who
seeks to analyse love's earliest sensation ?) Edward
sought the abode of the interesting stran?
n~ i- 1 i? u;t?.,iiun>o cr.
^cr. tic iuuiiu wiiu iici vuiuiici a ibmtiiuu o ovlicitor;
that gentleman, suspicious of the warm
feeling evinced by his friend for the fair Spaniard,
had employed a professional man; for he
was well aware that the letters he had written
would give Isadore strong claims upon him.?
He arrived at the moment when she first comprehended
that her lover's reason for wishing
his letters restored, originated in his fear of a
legal use being made of them. Her dark eye
flashed fire, her cheek burnt with emotion, her
heart-beat became audible, as she hastily caught
the letters, and threw them into the flames ?
" You have performed your mission," exclaimed
she; " leave the room instantly." Her force
was now exhausted, she sank back on the sofa.
The tender assiduities of Edward at length restored
her to some degree of composure. It
was luxury to have her feelings entered into;
to share sorrow is to soothe it. She told him of
hopes blighted forever; of wounded affection;
of the heart sickness which had paled her cheek,
j had worn to a shadow her once symmetrical
form. She had in her hand a few withered
leaves, " It is," said she, "the image of my fate;
this rose fell from inv hair one evening; Fjtz
allan placed it in his bosom; by moonlight I
saw it thrown aside; it was faded, but to me it
was precious from even that momentary caress;
1 have to this day cherished it Are not our
destinies told by this Hower ? His was the
bloom, the sweetness of love; my part was the
dead and scenlless leaves."
Kdward had now become her constant companion
; she found in him a kind and affectionate
brother. At length he spoke of love. Js- i
adore replied by throwing back her long dark
hair with a hand whose dazzling whiteness was
all that remained of its former beauty, and bade
him look on her pale and faded countenance, j
and there seek his answer?
" Yes, 1 shall wed, but my bridal wreath will j
be cypress, my* beu tlie grave, my spouse tne
Edward gazed on her face, and read conviction;
but still his In-art clung to her witli all
the devotedness of love, which hopes even in
despair, and amid the wreck of every promise
of happiness, grasps even at the unstable wave, i
One evening sue leaned by a window, gazing !
fixedly 011 tne glowing sky of a summer sunset; \
tiie rich color of her cheek which reflected the
carnation of the west, the intense light of her
soft but radiant black eyes, excited almost hope;
could the hand of death he on what was so beau- !
For tiie first time she asked for her lute;
hitherto she had shrunk from the sound of music
; Fitzallan had loved it; to her it was the
knoll of departed love. She waked a few wild
I I. I _ mi I t? r J i _
meiaucuoiy notes. - i nese sounus, saiu sue,
"are to me fraught with tender recollections ; it
is the vesper hymn of my own country." She
mingled her voice with the tones, so faint, so
sad, but so sweet, it was like the song of a spirit ,
as the concluding murmur died away. She
sunk back exhausted; Edward for a while sup- .
ported her head on his shoulder; at length he
parted the thick curls from oil' her lace, and i
timidly pressed her lip; he started from her
thrilling touch?it was his last kiss?Isadora
Imd expired in his arms!
The Rich Men of Xew York.?Thestarting 1
i . .< ~r *i.? -:..u
poilll III hie curse 01 some ui uic mum uit-u m
New York is thus referred to in the Herald:
There is hardly a rich man in this community
who did not commence his career poor?began
as a journeyman in his line of business.?
The career of a few of our leading rich men
may serve as instances. The late John Jacob
Astor?who died not long ago, and was probable
worth tliirtv millions?commenced his ea
reer on this continent as a journeyman pedlar,
beginning with candy, and getting on to fur ped
ling, when he commenced investing in real estate.
His descendants now are stars at the
Opera. The late John 0. Costar was a journeyman
hatter, and died recently a millionaire. <
The late John Mason was originally a tailor, 1
from Connecticut; the late Mr. Jones,a coop,
er?jet both wore honest and industrious thro*
life, and left large fortunes, which their happy
descendants are enjoying in every genteel way.
Stephen Whitney, who now owns blocks of ;
buildings in this city, began as a journeyman
clerk in a small grocery store. The Harpers,
whose business now amounts to millions, be
gun as journeymen printers, and now build
churches and endow parsons. The Havemey- i
ers were journeymen sugar reiinors. C. 11. i
Marshall, the largo ship owner, was a sailor
i-i*?- a I. ,.4 'HI.., ...A.illlnr innrolmnttt I
UUIUrU 11IU II lata. l uu nuiukuj
lord & Tileston, were journeymen?one an a
printer, the other in the shoo business. E. K. ?
Collins, the great steamship anil packet owner, I
and liberal merchant, was a journeyman clerk
in a commission house. Stetson, of the Astor i
House, was a journeyman bar-keeper at ins
3tart. Shorthand, the rich cooper and land
owner, was for years merely a journeyman
And so it is in every rank, profession and
extended business, in which men engage in this
city. Our richest and most prosperous citizens
commenced with nothing, and have amassed
their fortunes by persevering industry. We
have very few rich men who were bora rich.
DOCTOR OF DIVINI TY AND DOCTOR OF MEDICINE.
Minister?Good morning, Doctor; how
are all your patients?
Doctor?Doing well. I have excellent luck,
don't I ?
M.?Yes yon do; how do you get along so
well; how do you treat them ?
D.?I will tell you. I exhibit such remedies
as operate on forty pair of nerves and the branches.
consenuentlv the whole svstern feels the
influence of my remedies, mid iny patients get
well. But your remedies, only effect tea pair
of nerves, consequently but few of your patients
M.?But, Doctor, how is that? You say I
prescribe for forty pair. Please explain.
D.?I will explain, as every Doctor of Divinity
should understand. You, sir, apply all of
your remedies to the brain, aud from the brain
emanate ten pair of nerves; thirty originate
in tko oninn on/1 flin?v* trnn mobn n/\ nt.r.li/in
in vuv spuv uuu wu miwiii j vu ujunv tju
tion. The Jews understood this, and when
they punished a criminal with stripes, they gave
him thirty nine pair of nerves. Paul said, thrice
have 1 received forty stripes save one. But
Dr. Willis has since discovered another pair
r - -ll - J -i -
oi nerves, wuicn is cauea me accessory nerve
of Willis. Had the Jews known there were
forty pair, they would no doubt have given forty
stripes. Now, for you to be successful in
saving your patients, you must preach to forty
pair of nerves, and you will have great success.
M. ? Well, Doctor, please tell tue how I shall
preach to forty pair of nerves. You say 1 prescribe
for ten pair originating in the brain.
Now, Doctor, if 1 reach the brain, then through
the brain 1 reach the heurt, and the man is
D.?Reverend sir, do yon know that the heart
is muscle, and is no more in itself considered
than any other muscle of the body, and the nerves
leading to the heart originate in the head and the
spine, therefore ifthe heart is diseased 1 frequently
apply remedies to the spine, and so with every
other internal oraan. The nerves run from the
spine to those organs, and you, reverend sir,
should exhibit such remedies, and in'euch a man- :
neras to effect every nerve in the body. Your
patients are all criminals, and you should give
them thirty-nine or forty lashes (one for every
nerve) every Sabbath, and I think nearly all
your patients would get well.
M.?Doctor, do you apply your remedies to
the forty pair of nerves t If so, pray tell me
what is your medicine ( i
D.?Dear sir, I use all the medicines God has
provided, as each case may require, having '
special regard to the condition of every part of 1
the body; and this is the secret why all my pa- j
tients get well.
M.--Well, Doctor, how shall I preach to cure j
my patients I
1).?Dear sir, do as I do. Uso all the remo- 1
dies (Jod has provided. The remedies for you 1
to exhibit are the bread of lite, the water of life, ]
and liberty to the captive, relief to the poor, economy
to the extravagant, industry to the la- 1
zy, knowledge to the ignorant, temperance to '
the drunkard, trutii to the liar, honesty to the 1
knave fear to the profane and to the Sabbath brea- '
kers, and lastly, a free salvation to ail. I'y a
faithful exhibition of the above remedies, you '
will see an amendment in all the symptoms of
your patients?and your bill will be paid.
Lmve and Insanity.?A Paris letter writer savs '
1K.1 on oKlo n.iAil
ujcib ouiiiu iiiuiiiiic* riuwui .uuu uu vi<? an uui? j'u|<n
of the Conservetoire, was engaged to be married
to a young man, by whom she was warmly loved.
Sho had money ; and he, poor fellow, had none. 1
The day was fixed. lie went into the country to (
get the necessary papers. The relatives of the
lady took advantage of his absence, plotted against .
him, a conceit fannlle was called, and her godfather 1
addres.-ed her. He advised her to alter her de- 1
termination, as her friends could no longer ap- '
prove hrr union. .No reply. He then, in the name i
of the family, forbade her union. No reply. Sur- i
prise, indignation, grief had brought on a nervous ,
contraction of the tongue. For twelve lious she
could not speak. ?She recovered her speech at the
end of that period ; but she was, and is insane. ]
' Do you think people are troubled as much with '
fleabotomary, now, doctor, as they used to be before
they discovered the anti-bug beadstead <
asked Mrs. Partingion, of the doctor of the old 1
school who attended upon the lamilv where she <
"Phlebotomy, madam," said the doctor, gravely
"is a reinedv, not a disease."
"Well, well," replied she, "no wonder one gets '
'em mixed up, titer is so many of'em. We nev- '
sr heard in old times of tensors in the threat, or i
einbargos in the head, or neurology all over us, or j
consternation in the bowels, as we do now-a-days. ,
But its an ill wind that don't blow nobody no good ,
and the doctors flourish on it, like a green baize ^
tree. But of course they don't have anything to
do with it?they can't make 'em come or go."
The doctor stepped out with a genteel bow, 1
and the old lady watched him till his carbriolet t
had turned the corner, her mind revolving the ?
intricate subject of cause and ellect.?I'ulhjiiuicr.
Romk.? The Pope has published an address
and explanation of the startling events of his
reign, and commenting on the affairs of the
Roman Catholic world. He especially stigmatised
the prosecution of the Archbishop of Turin
by the Piedmontcsc Government. The houses
. j _.i
ut Ciiigusu resmeius aim umui s am t"ioc
ly searched for Hi bios, not even excepting the
British Consuls. i
Florida.?The Tallahassee Sentinel of the
4th inst. says:
" All the papers conclude that the crop cannot,
under the most favorable circumstances,
exceed that of last year. It is too early to arrive
at positive conclusions, but it appears probable
that the crop will again be short eveiywhere,
except in Florida. Here the prospect
is fair. There can be no question that eottota
is a much more certain crop here, than in any
other portion of the world. Rich, heavy lands
may be very important, but good seasons are
~.\a I?^ U?.,? "
iiiu1c bu) auu ucjc >vc nave tueui.
When moving into a new houBe, let the first
things you bring into it be a little coal and salt
Thb Hhad ajw the Heart.?Here is a
beautiful thing from the pen of Mrs. Cornwall
"Please, my lady, bay a nosegav, or bestow
a trifle," was the address of a pale, emaciated
woman, holding a few withered flowers in-her
hand, to a lady who sat on the bench at Brighton,
watching the blue waves of the receding t
tide. "I have no pence, my good woman," said
the lady, looking up from the novel she was
perusing with a listless gaze; "if I had I would
give them to you." "I am a poor widow, with
three helpless children depending upon rae>
would you bestow a small trifle to help us on
our way ?" " I have no half pence," reiterated
the lady somewhat pettishly.
" Really," she added, as the poor applicant
turned meekly away, " this is worse than the
streets of London; they should have a police
on the shore to prevent annoyance." They
were the thoughtless dictates of the head.?
" Mamma," said a blue-eyed noy, wno was
playing on the beach at the lady's feet, flinging
pebbles into the sea, " I wish yon had a penny,
for the poor woman does look hungry, and you
know that we are going to have a nice dinner,
and you have promised me a glass of wine."?
The heart of the lady answered the appeal of
the child, and with a blush of shame crimsoning
her cheek at the tacit reproof his artless words
conveyed, she opened her reticule, placed halfa-crown
in his tinv hand, and in another moment
the boy was bounding along the sand on
his errand of mercy. In a few seconds he returned,
his eyes sparkling with delight, and his
features glowing with health and beauty, "Oh!
mamma, the poor woman was so thankful, she
wanted to turn back, bnt I would not let her, and
she said, " God help the noble lady, and yoa
too, my pretty lamb; my children will now
have bread for those two days, and we shall go
on our way rejoicing." The eyes of the lady
glistened as she heard the recital of her child,
and her heart told her that its dictates bestowed
a pleasure the cold reasoning of the head eoold
Late from Fort Kearney.?We had the
pleasure last evening, of a few moments conversation
with Col. Moss, who came passenger
from St. Joseph on the steamer St Panl.
Col. Moss left Fort Kearney, on the Plains on
the 25th of last month. Up to that time six
hundred California wagons had passed, and between
five and six hundred were yet to arrive*
The emigrants, generally, were getting along
frell; the grass was fine and water abundant, ana
igrati m full one month earlier than last year. Jerome
and Hanson's train passed Fort Kearney
.1 1 - 11 11 al J X
on trie l'/tn ultimo, an wen. Alexanders train
was met on the 11th instant on the Little Blue.
Each train had lost one man from sickness,
Col. M. who by the way, appears to be a man
of intelligence, estimates the whole number of
^migrants starting across the plains, in round
numbers, at 70,000, independent of 10,000 to
12,000 Mormons destined for Salt Lake. The
ivheel-barrow man arrived at Fort KearnevaOout
the 15th ult where contracted for the
transportation ot twenty-tive pounds 01 ireigni
for Fort Laramie, for which he was to receive
one dollar per pound.
St. Louis Intelligencer June 14
Ante si an Wells.?The celebrated Dr.
Buckland recently delivered a lecture in London
on thoaBubject of Artesian wells. A real
Yrtosian well is one that is constantly overflown?r,
either from its natural source or from an
irtificial tube. It is stated that there are from
250 to 300 of these wells in London, but the
loetor contended that one-half of them ought
lot to be called by that name, as the water did
lot rise to the surface in them. On one well,
?ighteen or nineteen thousand dollars had been
?xpended, and yet the water did not rise within
eighty feet of the surface. He contended
that these wells could not supply London with
water, but an adequate supply might be obtain?d
from the Thames by the tapping it at Henby
and carrying it into London in an open
The Jacksov Statue.?We, on Saturday
[says the Washington Republic ) made a call
upon Mr. Mills at his studio, to inquire respectngthe
health of himself and his bronze horse.
Mr. M. reported favorably respecting his own
I...* ...a n<ui on?ir (n lo-irn tliat b?a stnt. v
JOI1UIUOII, IHIlUCttlCCHniJ ?.*? ...v W...
jq is in statu quo. He is not yet supplied with
lie metal to he melted down for the purpose,
md must await the action of Congress upon the
subject. There is, near our city, a large quanitv
of pieces of ordnance, condemned long
since, that would answer the purpose, hut they
nay not he so used without the formalities of
i Congressional appropriation. We feel a good
leal of interest 011 this subject, for we are well
issurod the statue of Jackson will reflect honor
lpon the genius of our talented countryman and
lo credit to the taste and patriotism of those
vho mav aid him in his present meriteriou s ef
A crowing hen and a whistling woman are
r?rt* fit frt kn Irnnt fllmilt ft hoUEO.
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